Join the Band
by She Who Wears Trunks
Summary: Dante and Nero are working in Devil May Cry together, forming a band with Lady and Trish on the side, but everybody's got their troubles. Will they work it out together, or will they just get on each others nerves? Rated T for language and sexual situations. Possible lemons later on.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own and of the games mentioned, or any of the music used in this story. **

**The Lamest Hero 64**

**Chapter 1**

**Prologue  
**

If you were to stay up on a night like tonight, you just might've seen him walking in the rain, right down the middle of the street. And if you were looking through an apartment window, you'd be able to make out his white hair, and his striped shirt. And maybe you'd be able to hear soft hazy crash sounds or beats coming from his cherry red headphones, which you may have noticed to be hanging around his throat.

You might've thought, "There's nothing special about this kid," or maybe "What's he doing outside at this hour?" Maybe you're wondering, "Who looks out their window at night? That's _weird_."

It's rare moments of chance, or perhaps curiosity, that lead anybody's eyes anywhere, including outside a window, onto a boy with a red and navy streaked shirt, and crashing headphones. Anybody can have any number of questions about this boy, but there is much more to him than his looks, or if you could see it, his destination. Of course, this is something most would assume to be true.

He walked at a slow pace, as if he wasn't really trying to get where he was going. But that's just a guess. An assumption that you can't prove to be correct from the information you could gather from your window. He disappears from your sight eventually, and maybe you decide you go to bed.

But that boy keeps going, and maybe your thoughts wander the orange tinted streets with his slow paced gait.

A bright red neon sign sets the lingering drops of water on his body glowing, and that boy enters the building that the sign hung on. If you could've gotten a better look, you'd have noticed he wasn't a boy, but a teen. Maybe a young adult.

You would've noticed his clothes were a bit different from what you could see from the window, had you the chance to see him up close. His striped shirt had a hood on it, and he had on a white long sleeved undershirt underneath, as well. His jeans are dark and ripped. Some rips looked like they were there when he bought the jeans, others didn't. His shoes were just a regular pair of black converses, and they clunked against the hardwood floor of the new room rather quietly.

He takes a look around the room he found himself in. The floor had a rug in the middle with light brown stains in it, though it looked as it had been cleaned to remove said stains. I rickety ceiling fan hung up above in a still, crooked fashion. There were two doors in the room, one in up ahead, and the other to the left. A set of stairs and a couch. By the door to the left, was a refrigerator, a sink and small counter top, and a drum set. To the right was a desk with a pizza box and a pair of feet stacked on top of it. If you let your eyes follow past the leather bound feet, you'd see long stocky legs that lead into a built chest and pair of arms, and a playboy magazine covering the head of a snoring man.

The boy let his eyes rest there, taking the time to reflect on the sleeping man who so lazily let his body hang off the desk and chair behind it.

"Just like an old man to sleep all day," He said to himself. His voice had a boyish rasp to it.

From his spot, just before the stained rug, he walked over to the door on the left. His footfalls mixed with the crash and bang from his headphones, and if he hadn't been listening to the beats, maybe he would've noticed the footsteps behind him, or that the old man's snores had ceased.

His left hand hit the brass handle to the door, just as the old man poked him in the back of the head. He turned towards the oldie.

"Hey, who's old?" He said. "I'm not old."

The kid turned around, and said simply, "_You_ _are_."

The old man placed his thumb and index finger on his chin, like a check mark, mock pondering the kid's blunt words.

"Well, I'm no older than your single streak, little Nero. How long has it been since you've had a lady?"

Nero, the boy, let out a long suffering sigh. His trump card. He could only wonder why the old man used it in an argument that hadn't even really formed into an argument. The old man seemed to have terrible timing. The kid turned his head back to the door, though he didn't turn the handle.

"Are you so old that you can't remember?" His voice was irritated, but not defeated.

The old man spun around, red leather flaps damn near slapping Nero with a force to be reckoned with. Hand still to his chin, he looked to the ceiling, as if he would find anything but the fan up there. He hummed in thought.

"Eh, didn't the last one leave you two years ago? In the winter? And, _correct me if I'm wrong_," He said teasingly, "but didn't she leave you in the most embarrassing way possible?"

"Whatever, Old man. Who says I want another girlfriend anyways?" Nero's voice was small now, maybe tired.

This is the part that really broke Nero's already thin tolerance for the old man. Very casually, the old man said"…So, what? You're gay now?" The old man had a way with words.

Nero whipped his head back around, hair spraying the old man's face with rain water, and huffed angrily. The old man wore genuine questioning on his face, and it seemed to pepper Nero's aggravation with more aggravation. "I've only been here for five fucking seconds and you're already annoying. Why don't you spend some more quality time with your porn collection and leave me the hell alone?"

He finally turned the brass handle and entered another room, being sure to slam the door so hard that the ceiling fan swung around, almost falling from its home. He grasped for his cherry red headphones around his neck and put them on his ears. He leaned against his bedroom door.

If you could see, what would you think? His room was unkempt. His bed was pushed into the corner, with two mattresses stacked on top of each other, no bed spring. The sheets were coming up from the end, and his blanket was halfway off the bed. His nightstand was predictably cluttered with things like soda cans and odd papers, and whatnot. His walls were plastered with old posters that he had been meaning to take down, and his dresser was in the corner. It had a small TV on it and a handful of old game systems with a pile of classic games he hardly ever touched. He saw his guitar, the starry assault, leaned up against the dresser, and found himself wanting to hear the hard whine of it on his fingertips.

It was a pretty neat guitar. It had red paint splattered on it, and a black-to-white fade around the edge. There were three red, star-shaped knobs along the right side of it. A pretty neat guitar.

He often gets that feeling when he sees his weapons too, which were, rather inconveniently, sitting in the room with the old man in it. He thought about what said old man made fun of him for, and a collection of unwanted memories flooded his sight.

He remembers lying on his bed, still messy as ever, with his hands behind his head, and "GAME OVER" written in blocky, pixel letters on his small TV screen. It was winter again. His phone went off with a buzz on his night stand. Nero cracked his eyes open and lazily reached over to see just who was calling. He held it over his head in mild annoyance. The phone read "Kyrie."

He had other options than to answer the phone as nicely as he did. He could've _not_ answered and be forced to come up with an explanation for why later. He could've been rude to Kyrie over the phone. But he didn't. Their relationship had been pretty rocky lately. He felt as if she hadn't trusted him. But what could he do? You can't force trust. Though honestly, he couldn't really see himself doing something like that to Kyrie, even if he wanted to (Which he kind of did.)

His girl was a beautiful singer, with chestnut brown hair and a pretty smile. He had given her a necklace, a while back, and she always seemed to have it on. He thought it made her look perfect, but lately, though, its symbolism was a bit… Crushing? It meant trust, love. But he could feel it fading, and he didn't know why, he didn't know how to stop it. He thought, if he pretended not to notice, it would stop.

Obviously, he had been wrong.

"Hello?" He answered. He remembers his voice being obviously tired, and maybe a bit worried or anxious.

"Hey, where are you?" He remembers her voice to sound equally tired and anxious too. Nero, at the time, had been naïve when it came to Kyrie. To get a sudden call from her like this wasn't out of the ordinary to him. Though, when he thinks about it now, he doesn't feel like there was any way he could've known.

He responds, "At the DMC building." It was his home now, though he never referred to it as such.

"Oh. Cool… Can you make it to the bar?" Now, perhaps there was a bit of concern here, because He remembers clearly how her voice sounded sad, or strained, but he hadn't wondered about it for too long at the time. He just wasn't listening. But he remembers what happened later that day. He remembers how he was forced to open his eyes.

"Sure, sure…" Again, he doesn't question, he only answers. His boyish rasp unknowingly sending a sense of dread through Kyrie.

"Okay, be there at eight."

She hangs up without a goodbye, but he never noticed, and if Nero could've told his past self any one thing before he got to the bar, he would've said "Open your fucking ears, because you're not listening!" Maybe his past self wouldn't understand what he meant, but it doesn't matter.

He walked out from his room to find the old man in his regular spot with one of his guns, Ebony, in his hand with a cloth in the other. Nero barely glanced at the old man before giving him a half-assed "goodbye." He remembers the old man giving him an equally half-assed "Have fun," or whatever the hell he said.

Nero walks out of the DMC building and around the corner in his patchy, navy trench coat, which he's never actually zipped up.

He remembers thinking how he could never be lost on a street like the ones surrounding the DMC building, because every single building had a neon sign somewhere on it, telling you what a building was. He wondered if every building was to be labeled with neon lights, why stop signs or street names weren't written up in them too. A very sarcastic thought, but seeing as how _most of the damned city _was part of neon sign; it wasn't too absurd of an idea. Not _really_.

The streets were grimy looking. There were crooked street lamps, and cracked pavements. Sometimes you could find a pile of suspicious liquid on the ground, which always came in a different color from when you last saw it_. Sort of_ like neon signs…

Anyways, he remembered stepping into the bar, and hearing Kyrie finish the last bit of a song. There were other people on the stage with her, other band members, but he never really acknowledged them. Not only at the bar, but at other times when he'd see them too.

You _might _wonder, "When did Nero see these _other_ folk?"

Well, you see, Nero and Kyrie had formed a band. When the band was still under construction, Kyrie had made it apparent that they would've sounded better with a bassist and drummer. So she had set out on finding others to play along with them. But that doesn't truly matter at all. Not when you consider what happened next.

Upon entering the bar, Nero noticed Kyrie finishing a song. You know this. You also know, that Nero and Kyrie were in a band together. So, when Nero put these two pieces of information together, as you might imagine, he began to wonder why Kyrie would start a gig without him. This only worried him slightly, because at the time, he was deaf to most signals regarding Kyrie. If you can even fathom an idea as absurd as that.

The bar was drowned in the color red from the stage lights, and the crowd was especially thick. He pushed with way past the drunken population of the bar, and called out to Kyrie.

"Kyrie!"

He (also) had a way with words.

He gave a smile, not really paying attention, once again. If he had listened, he would know that whatever Kyrie had planned to talk about was a serious issue; nothing to smile about.

She spotted him, and he actually started to notice something! Her gaze was cold. Or maybe sad? It's been two and a half years. He can't remember _everything. (Though it was way more likely that she was sad.)  
_

She hopped off the stage. She walked a bit over to him, but he was in the front, so she didn't have to go far. She left about three feet between them, but Nero closed the distance considerably. She looked uncomfortable. Kyrie still had her mic in her hand. She was going to say something.

She didn't mean for it to happen like it did. Nero _knew_ she didn't, and it wasn't her fault, but what did it matter, all this time later?

She said "We need to talk." Simple. Not a big deal. If she wanted to talk, Nero would talk with her.

He nodded. "Continue," His bobbing head seemed to be saying. So she did. She said, "I've been thinking this over a lot… And we can't have you in the band. Not anymore."

If he still had that stupid, unsuspecting smile on his face, it would've been hilarious how fast it would've gotten wiped off his mouth.

"Wait a second," He said. "What's this about? Why are you trying to kick me out of the band so suddenly?"

"Listen, Nero, me and the other band members have been talking, and we don't think you're good for the money-"

"Who gives a shit about the money?" If he could've done something about his past self, he would've slapped him with his right hand. Or maybe he would've told himself to stop yelling, though, if he thought about it that might've made him yell more. He's a _bit_ on the emotional side. "Didn't we start the band so we could be heard?"

"That was before other people got involved!" Kyrie's voice was getting louder. But it didn't matter. Nothing really seemed to matter except for the argument at hand. They both stopped listening, but maybe if they hadn't they would've remembered the mic in Kyrie's hand. It wasn't _too_ sensitive, but it picked up on the noise just enough for everybody in the bar to hear.

And it wasn't her fault, he told himself. If he hadn't ever been listening, she had the right to stop too. If only for that night.

The rest of the bar disappeared around them, and it was just the two of them in the heat of their argument.

"I'm always trying and trying. Trying to get you involved with the others. Don't you think we'd be a better band if we could work together?" Kyrie begins. "But you just keep pushing them away! They're as big a part of the band as you or I! And you don't see it!"

"Kyrie, you're acting like you don't know me! You know I can't just get close to others like you can."

"Nero, you can use that excuse for as long as you want, but I've tried, _really tried, _to help you. And you won't listen! You only care about yourself."

"Kyrie…" He said dangerously. He remembered trying to calm down for her sake, because he knew she doesn't like to see him blow up. Though he was failing at a fast pace.

"What, are you going to tell me you care about me? Pretend like you don't feel us fading?"

"We can still fix this, Kyrie! Why are you so eager to end it all?"

"I'm not eager! You don't listen! You don't care!"

"You know that's not fuckin' true!"

"Jesus Christ!" That voice didn't come from Nero or Kyrie, but from a voice in the back of the bar. "Shut up and sing!"

Nero's anger flared.

A few drunks laughed, and others whispered, as Nero and Kyrie looked around the bar. One gaze confused, the other angry. Then Kyrie saw the mic in her hand. "Oh shit," her face seemed to say.

A fat, _incredibly_ greasy dude with a stained wife beater showed up at Nero's side to laugh at him personally and it was weird, because Nero's face was pretty threatening. And he should've had on long sleeves. It was in the middle of December. He spilled his beer on Nero's navy trench, and spit his sloppy breath on his face.

Nero grabbed him up by the dirty cloth and damn near broke his nose with his right hand, which was really his wrong hand. And his jaw. Maybe his cheek bones. He had a tendency to go overboard when he was mad, lose control. He was a devil hunter, with a decent job at DMC, meaning that he had devil hunter strength. His blood splattered on Nero's face a bit. Nero was about to give up on hitting this guy, not really wanting to kill him. And also, he made for a really slippery hold.

But he didn't have time to give up. Kyrie, the bassist, and the drummer grabbed Nero by the arms and hauled him off the greasy dude with varying degrees of difficulty. Nero was like a dog, growling and attacking like he was. If he could see his past self, he would've shot himself with the blue rose. Maybe in the neck, or the chest. Maybe the head, if he felt he deserved it. not like it would really affect him though.

Nero pushed the bassist and the drummer back into the stage, and jerked his arm away from Kyrie. She huffed at him, looking angrier than he'd ever seen her. She presses her lips together and reaches behind her neck to unclasp her necklace, and forces it to Nero's chest. When he grabs it he looks at her like he was mad, but remembering it now, he shouldn't have been. It was his fault. All of it.

He shifts his way through the bar, and steps out into the cold. He becomes more observant that night, doing anything to keep his mind of what just happened. He notices the echo of neon light on the wet, slightly snow dusted, streets. And the steam rising from sewage drains and buildings. And odd noises from alleyways and seemingly empty buildings, with broken windows and doors. Chipped bricks, skid marks on the asphalt, tipped trashcans, leaking dumpsters. And when the wind blew, he felt the blood on his right hand and face get colder. and his trench coat smelled like beer now.

And then he gets to DMC, his home. He had been talking with Kyrie about moving in with her and her brother. She said she'd think about it, but, well, you might be able to guess what her first and last answer was.

His ears pick up a familiar tune, though it was incomplete. Missing something. Then he saw the old man on his desk, with one of his favorite guitars on his lap, the Busted Cherry. A raunchy name, but its sound was gorgeous. It was (also) a pretty neat guitar. It was curvy, had white trim. The edge faded from black, to red, to white. There was a silver piece at the end with an onyx "S" shaved into it in old English lettering. Who knows what it stands for?

Nero, himself, could play the tune just as well as the old man could. The old man was the lead, and Nero was the harmony. Though they had no singer, there were words, written by the old man when he was twenty. Or so he was told.

"Devils never cry," Nero remembers whispering in recognition. It was as if his voice had taken the old man out of a musically induced trance. He stopped playing, startled, and looked to Nero. He normally would've smirked or something, but he must have noticed the look on Nero's face. Very sad.

So he nodded his way in a greeting, and continued to play from the start. He wondered if Nero actually drank at the bar, because he smelt of stronger beer than when he usually returns from there. Probably not. The old man didn't think of the kid as the drinking type, and he'd never been out drinking with him to be proven otherwise. Besides, the old man had had his fair share of greasy dudes. He just assumed that Nero got beer split on him and came home with a sour look on his face.

Nero went to his room, and grabbed the starry assault, and then he went back into the first room to sit cross-legged on the stained rug, which at the time, was not stained. He joined along, and though the song was still missing pieces, it sounded better. Playing the song with the old man had made him feel just a bit better about his situation, and Nero thought he sounded better than he ever had with Kyrie.

And then the song was over. He looked up at the old man, having his eyes closed for most of the song. They were both smiling, though the old man's was wider, and perhaps more sincere. But he was smiling, and maybe that was enough for now.

"Glad to hear you play a song that isn't whiny." Okay, so maybe he changed his mind about messing with him. But maybe he noticed his mood has lifted a bit after playing. "Usually, when I hear you play, it sounds like Flyleaf, or Coldplay."

Nero chuckled. "There won't be anymore girly notes falling from me anymore. I'm done with it."

The old man's eyebrows pinched towards each other, and his smile fell just a bit in confusion. "What do you mean by that, kid? Your girlfriend let you write a song, or somethin'?"

"No, no. You know she keeps the leash too tight for something like that," he began to explain. "I'm not a part of any band anymore."

Smile completely gone now, he nods, and gains a contemplative face. And for several seconds, all he's doing is looking at the silver strings of the Busted Cherry. Then, turning back to Nero, he says, "You know how Trish and Lady have been trying to get you to join Devil May Cry… I've been trying pretty hard _myself_ to get you to join," He chuckles "Well, you know the offer is still there."

Nero didn't contemplate for long, and he didn't need any more persuasion. He accepted the offer with a tight handshake and a real smile. And after that, they played more songs. Some songs were written by the old man, some were written by other, more known bands. They played soft songs, like Atreyu's "An Interlude," and hard songs like Rob Zombie's "Superbeast." They played heavy songs like Disturbed's "Believe," and Megadeth's "Holy Wars."

And Nero couldn't remember how much time they spent playing songs like that. But he remembers calling the old man by his name (for the first time in a long time) in thanks. The old man didn't know why he was being thanked and probably still doesn't, but it was because he fed Nero the resolve to find a way to get over Kyrie quick, and to live his life with open eyes.

"Thank you, Dante," He had said in a quiet voice. It was probably the first time he_ didn't_ want to be heard that night. Nero remembers going to bed, and being able to hear Devils Never Cry again before falling to sleep.

And suddenly, Nero is back in his room, with his back against the door, and cherry red headphones crashing into his ears. Back to the present, rather than in his memories.

Something on the other side of his door was banging repeatedly really hard. It pushed his head from the door, and knocked his headphones off. _Mildly_ irritating.

"Nero, I know you heard Lady and Trish barge in just now! Get out here!" It was the old man, Dante. "Are you asleep? Wake up! Get up, get up!" He adds with more bangs to the door, and in a quieter voice he mutters "He did you fall asleep so fast?"

Nero smiles lightly at the door, and turns to open it, moving forward.

* * *

**Okay, so let me tell you what brought this on. I was playing Guitar hero: Warriors of rock, and I was making my own character. While I was trying to dress said character, there was a trench coat with a vest underneath, and it got me to make Dante, which led me to make Nelo Angelo, Lady, and Trish, also. I did lots of sketches of them and put them into little scenes in my head, and on paper. And then suddenly, a good story (to me) came about. I started to write it out, and I liked it, and I hope you liked it too.**

**Oh, and I don't really think anything is wrong with Flyleaf or Coldplay. Please don't take offense!  
**

**Now, this is an AU, so anything is possible. I'd like to know if anybody would like to see Nelo Angelo in this story. I've got some ideas, but really, this story isn't finished. So feedback is greatly appreciated :)**

**R&R please!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry.**

**Author's note: This chapter is the first part of many. I wrote this based off of a song. Korn's "Faget," to be specific. If you have questions I'd love to hear them. There's some heavy handed insults in this chapter, please don't be offended!**

**Oh, and Happy Holidays C:  
**

**Please read and review! **

* * *

**The Lamest Hero 64**

**Chapter 2 Part 1  
**

**The Shitty Weekend Debacle**

Nero had suspected Lady had a small crush on Dante for the longest time, but it was a whole ordeal when she told him about it. It caused a whole chain of events that basically ruined Nero's whole weekend.

Dante had been sleeping on his and lady's legs across the couch, because Trish had stolen his seat, and Nero had already claimed the couch with Lady. He could've gone to his room, but he wanted to spend his night with his gang. _How sweet_, but that also meant his thighs and a small portion of his ass were on Nero's lap.

It had been after a gig they played at a local bar. Tonight was a good night because their pay had been fat and juicy. And Dante looked good today, the younger demon couldn't lie. There were many things to like about Dante's appearance, to put it plainly.

His white hair looked like fireworks because of the stage lighting, and he had looked so alive. Borderline _crazy._ He slammed his loose red boots into the stage like a madman, and his trench waved around like a flag. But Nero had to admit he hated when he wore that trench with no shirt under it.

The purpose of a trench coat was to conceal, but in Nero's opinion, it hid too much. And he knew the old man knew what he was doing was driving him (and most of their fans) insane. When it came to flirting, or seduction, Dante knew how to play his cards. Offering tiny peaks of his ridiculous abs was a great way to unsure that people would come back to see them play again. He was just being business smart, or that's what Nero convinced himself into thinking anyways. The old man offered him a knowing glance when they left the bar, and all he could do was roll his eyes.

And while he was thinking about the topic of "Devil May Cry," he also thought that the instruments they played reflected their roles as friends and battle partners. Dante was the lead guitarist. It all started with him, and he was skilled enough to lead them wherever. Nero was the rhythm guitarist, because he had some elements of being a leader that you need, but when it came down to it he was too emotional. Dante was laid back enough to get the job done with a cool head. Nero was more likely to get mad and charge in without thinking, but that didn't mean he wasn't a brilliant fighter.

Lady played bass. Statistically, she was the weakest of the four, but without her the team would definitely have a hard time of making things sound good, and avoiding damage, and killing demons. And _making money_. Trish played drums because she kept a beat. She wasn't Dante's mother, but she had motherly aspects about her that kept the team from killing each other. That's not to say she didn't get childish or wild _herself_, though.

Nero was about to fall asleep when it had happened. He and lady had their legs falling asleep when she spoke up. "They both sleep with their mouths open."

Nero blinked his eyes open and turned his head to Lady. She had the older demon's head in her lap, and she was just staring at him with that same unreadable expression she always wore. Maybe it was toned down a bit though? It was the teal eye, Nero had noticed, that appeared to reveal more emotion than the other. And it was soft as she looked on at him.

"Yeah, they do." He answered her back after glancing at Trish to confirm her previous statement. It was too quiet when she was talking, but it was too loud when she wasn't. Does that even make sense? What she was saying had meaning to it, but who would ever hear it when she hid herself so well? When she wasn't talking it was like he could feel her screaming for somebody to just listen, and _that_ only happens when lonely people need help.

Who says Lady isn't lonely though? It was her fault, and it wasn't. Nero knew this and he took it to heart so he could remind himself to understand her better. _She had trust issues_. She was lonely because she wouldn't let anybody in, and it was her dear old dad's fault. The only reason some blame could be placed on her was because she'd known all them for years and she still had up those walls.

Lady was perfectly understandable, if you carefully considered her and her family. You see, lady's daddy issues were the majority of her life, and everybody knew the story, but no one talked about it. Why would they, anyways? Because of this, she's kept up her defenses for most of her time on earth, and it's really just her instinct at this point.

Whatever. You can still catch lady being open, just not _constantly_. And so what? If she's happy being hidden once in a while then leave her be.

It was a while before either of them said anything again. The silence was contemplative. A swirl of "What do I say," and "What are you thinking" floated around Nero's mind. When it came to Lady, you never knew, and he was fine with it. But when she chose to speak with him it was either fun, or frustrating. Or a combination. Something was always a combination with her.

"I see the way you look at him." Oh, god _damn_ it.

Really though? Nero was annoyed she was actually trying to do this with him. He knew Trish had noticed too, but you didn't see Trish trying to have a talk with him about it, did you?

"It's the same way _I_ look at him."

It was too weird for Lady to just _come out_ with some shit like that from out of nowhere. Did she have a reason for talking about this with him? And why right _now_, with the old man still on their laps? What if he wasn't really sleeping? He didn't actually think Lady would let her guard down enough to let Dante overhear any of this, but who knew? Dante was a tricky _dude._

"_Lady, sometimes I want to shoot you_." He thought in an irritated fashion. He would never actually do it, but the thought was always there. "What if," right?

"I don't look at him the same way you do, because I don't look at him like I want to _fuck _him." He knew it had stung, but who gave a shit? She started it. It'd be just like Nero to get defensive when he felt uncomfortable.

She had the nerve to snap her head to him like he had no right to say what he did. Like he was in the wrong. And Nero wasn't trapped. If he wanted to, the youngest slayer could've just shoved the old man to floor and walk away, but if he could avoid that then he would.

Who wants to deal with a sleepy old man? Nobody.

"You and I _both_ know that's not how it is. You look at him like you want to _be_ with him."

Fuck it, "Why am I even having this conversation with you?" Nero was getting pretty tired of her shit now. She's doing that thing she always does, when she gets as unpredictable as possible. Extra emphasis on the "always" part.

"Why are you scared to be honest with me?" She was a sassy lady. And she was avoiding _his_ question, so he guessed they were both guilty of being dishonest, right? Wrong.

And of course it simmers down a bit after who knows how long. But the silence wasn't comfortable anymore, predictably. He was trying to keep his voice down, and so was she, but that was _also_ grating on his nerves.

He was still pissed she brought it up. It doesn't even seem like she had a reason for being like that.

Maybe Lady could read minds. She provided a reason almost immediately as Nero got the thought through his mind. She said, "I'm leaving soon."

What?

"It won't be forever, I'll definitely be back, but I need to go."

"Why?"

"It's none of your-"She managed to check herself before she wrecked herself, and revised her answer with a long and suffering sigh. "I don't like being kept here anymore. I have to get out. My sanity is on the line."

His angry thoughts were screaming, "_Elaborate a little, would you_?"

She wasn't wearing her angry mask anymore and neither was Nero. He wanted to ask why she was telling him about her crush on Dante before she left, but he let his eyes speak for him. She said, "I know what it's like to see these two flirt with each other like it's nothing, when all you want is to be close. You and I are alike in that way. We're too incompetent with our emotions to do anything." She was referring to Trish, by the way.

Well Nero was kind of surprised that Lady knew exactly what was wrong, but she wasn't the kind of person to sit and be confused about their feelings. She was real and honest about everything she did. Even when she couldn't be honest, she didn't lie, she avoided. That's not the same thing, is it? No, they couldn't _possibly_ be the same thing.

And that still didn't really explain why she wanted to talk with him about it.

He wasn't about to lie and say that he didn't have trouble with dealing with people. He wanted to shoot Lady _just now_. He admits he wants to be with Dante and denies it at _the same time_. He yelled at _Kyrie_!

Well, that was a while ago, but still.

Now it was really quiet, despite the tiny tunes coming from the jukebox. He just looked at his hands now, which sat neatly on Dante's thighs. "What will we do without you?"

She laughed. It was light and airy, and _not_ Lady like. She was… Heavy handed.

"You guys will die without me."

Was she joking? It could be true, who knows. Lady helped finding jobs, and she helped securing an area to prevent casualties, and she helped manage their funds, and she _also_ played their bass.

Don't forget that last part, it's pretty important.

Where the fuck were they going to find a bass player good enough to replace Lady until she came back? Where they just supposed to put their instruments away until her grand return? Lady was going to cause a big problem with her leaving, and an argument or two, perhaps maybe even an aneurism. A brain tumor. Cancer.

Who was going to get cancer when Lady left? Nero was pretty sure Demons, half-breed or not, could not get cancer.

Whatever. When Lady decides something there is little that can be done to sway her. Nero just assumed Lady wasn't going to answer any of the questions he had anymore, and kept quiet.

But what about money? She was cutting a hole in their little penny sacks! If they can't get as many jobs as they have been or play in the band anymore, then they'll get evicted and starve.

Well, no actually. Nero wouldn't let himself starve. He'd find a way, they _all_ would. Not that they would even let themselves be evicted. Maybe.

"I guess so, Lady." He admits.

* * *

Who knew the old man hadn't really fallen asleep? He was a tricky _dude _indeed.

When Nero wakes up, he finds himself in a different position then when he fell asleep, which wouldn't be weird if he was sleeping in a bed. And what was that snapping noise? Who gave a shit what it was? This "house" was just creaky.

He fell over in his sleep onto Dante's hip, with Lady's head further up on his chest. Nero would give anything to trade places with Lady, or better yet, get off the couch. He wasn't okay with his face being so close to Dante's crotch. But like I said, who wants to deal with a sleepy old man?

Wow, morning wood, and it wasn't even his. What a good morning this was. With the white morning light seeping in through the windows, the place looked dusty. At least it was something else to focus on. His boner looked strained in his almost-too-tight red pants. Maybe he should wake Dante up so he could fix his little problem. Who cares?

So Nero sat up carefully, and a string of spit followed his face until it wore to thin and vanished. It seems like Nero sleeps with his mouth open too. He wanted to wipe it off Dante's hip, because he slept without a shirt on, and I guess he has a thing for low riding pants.

Would you want Nero's morning breath spit on your bare hip? Hopefully not.

Wipe mouth. Blink eyes. Stare at Dante.

He couldn't feel his legs. Dante's ass in his lap was the perfect anesthesia.

He felt gross with the half dried spit on his face, and his sticky morning eyes, and Dante's boner in his personal bubble. He felt embarrassed because… Well, nobody else was awake so he didn't actually have a reason for being embarrassed. But then he heard that noise again. The snapping noise.

He blearily looked in its general direction, and suddenly he was a lot more awake.

There stood Trish with her phone in her hand, snapping pictures of the three like it was the funniest thing ever. It kind of was, but Nero wasn't about to laugh.

She had a silly smile on her face. Damn her to hell.

"Careful, Nero. Wouldn't want to wake the others, would you?" She was oh so condescending, and it sounded _too_ good to his ears.

Why was his morning so shitty, and it had only just started? He wondered if this was going to be his whole weekend. It usually was.

"Fuck that, Trish. You wanna let me see your phone?" His voice sounded crusty and jagged.

He got up and Dante slid to the floor like the little shit he was, and Lady went with him. He flipped over half way and landed with his forehead cracking against the floor painfully, and lady landed on top of him with her stomach to his arm. Her forehead met a similar fate to his. He felt bad for that, actually. It wasn't _her_ fault.

"Oof'" and "Ugh" mingled together in the air, and Nero kicked Dante in the ass.

"Take care of your hard on, you old faggot!" He said harshly. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Nero needed to chill the fuck out. That's _offensive! _

Dante replied with a confused "The hell are ya talkin' about, kid?"

"Your dick! It's your dick! Take care of your hard on!"

Trish was giggling, and when Lady caught on she joined in. Lady got up and stood next to Trish, who then proceeded to tilt her phone so Lady could see, and they both started to bawl.

Nero tried to grab the phone several times, but Trish was lightning fast. Just that little bit faster than him. He couldn't get it! He tried to tackle her but she and Lady ran out the door. I couldn't tell you why Lady left with Trish, but if I had to guess, I'd say it was because she couldn't get over how good a photographer Trish was.

And then Dante and Nero were left alone, which was inconvenient for Nero. He wanted to leave too. He imagined himself on Trish's back, trying to reach for her phone while she and Lady exited. Good thing Dante doesn't have telepathy. That's kind of embarrassing, but then again, his Saturday mornings usually were.

Nero decided to stop being a dick, for there were… _Bigger_ things to deal with right now. He reached out to Dante who had propped himself on his elbow, and had been staring at him ever since he woke up. Nero pulled him up, but he took care to keep his distance though. Wouldn't want his secret to be exposed, eh?

Too bad it already was, and he just didn't know it.

"What are you still doing down here? Go upstairs and take care of your shit." The kid had on a little glare. Whatever. Why wasn't Dante doing anything? He had this stupid, blank stare on his face.

Nero didn't know what to do, so he just looked at his _trouser tent_, and then looked back at him. The look he was giving him seemed to say "Do what you gotta do!"

Dante turned away just a bit, and for a second Nero was filled with overwhelming relief, but then that god awful smirk of the older devil crept up on his face. That overwhelming relief turned to overwhelming dread.

"Am I really the faggot here?" Dante had said it with a wiggle to his brow. Nero decided he hated that old dirt bag right then and there, and that nothing would please him more than to impale him.

"What?" The way Nero said it made it seem like it wasn't really a question at all. The obligatory question mark was there, of course, but it held no presence. As if it was on break or something. And that just made it seem as if Nero didn't need to ask, because in reality, he understood perfectly what Dante was saying to him. The revelation that Dante had been awake made him angry for several reasons.

Reason 1: He knew about his secret, which can cause problems in what we will refer to as "the workplace."

Reason 2: He knew Lady was going to leave them but he was more concerned about teasing Nero.

Reason 3: He'd have to put just a _little_ less faith in Lady's immaculate sense of security, which would've caused problems in the workplace, had she been staying. Who knew when she was going to leave though?

Reason 4: Dante would rather pester Nero over this than take care of his boner, which was a big, noticeable presence in the room. Oh, how uncomfortable Nero had been on that Saturday morning. The people will rejoice.

Anyways, Dante thought it'd be best to keep his pretty mouth shut and stare at Nero like a dead fish. Well, actually, if I'm being honest with you, it was less like a dead fish and more like a Succubus. _Kind of._

Those were always so much fun to deal with, because when they kiss you, you start to slowly die. But even if Nero wanted to be with the old man (which he did) he didn't want any kisses. He turned his head fast.

"_Not now_," He thought.

Well, Nero would be lying if he knew what to do next so he just kind of shook his head like it didn't matter and tried to leave for his room, so he could shower and leave.

No such luck, because as it turns out, they were _both_ fags. Dante grabbed his hand and spun him around. He pressed close with his hands on the kid's face, and whispered, "Hey, what's wrong, little Nero? You know, I only have this problem because of you. It's only fair that you should have to take care of it."

_Jesus Christ_, he really didn't know how to handle this. He could compare this to when he was with Kyrie, but he never had gotten this close to her. Not like _this._ He had always been happy just being next to her, and it seemed like that's how she was too. With careful observation, one could come to the conclusion that they were only meant to be friends.

If Dante was Kyrie, how would he have thought to handle this? That doesn't work; you can't compare Dante to Kyrie.

What did Nero do to provoke and erection out of Dante anyways?

"What do you mean, 'I only have this little problem because of you?' I didn't do anything." Normally Nero would've already broken his jaw, so what was wrong? Well, normally he wouldn't have a thing for him so… _Maybe_ this was a teensy bit different.

_Too _different if you asked him.

And then Dante said something the made him want to die. He said, "You're the perfect wet dream, kid."

Oh god! Why him? Why now!? That was a lame ass pickup line, too.

All he wanted to do was tell Dante to blow it out his ass, and walk away, but he was stuck. Couldn't move. Breathless. Who would've guessed Dante wanted to be with him too? Or maybe he was just looking for a quick fuck.

No, that thought made Nero regain his senses and push the old man hard. So hard he actually stumbled.

"Wipe that stupid fucking look off your face, old man." He was referring to the surprise on his features, of course. "I'm not gonna be another quick fuck for you. You can suck my dick if you think that's how this is gonna work!"

Fuck that shower Nero wanted to take; He grabbed his gun, his sword and the starry assault, and holstered them quickly with practiced precision. And he really tried hard to leave the DMC building.

Dante hugged him from behind, but left room in between. "Don't go. You've got it all wrong."

"Get the fuck off me before I break your god damn nose."

"I really do want to be with you."

"I said get off!" He turned half way and Dante had to let go. From where he was he could see his earnest face, but he was still distrustful.

"I was playing around too much." An apology? Was that guilt in his eyes?

He turned all the way. "Why should I believe you?"

"Because you're important to me." Simple.

Nero was getting tired of the long staring competitions he was getting himself into. He didn't know what to think. He wanted to believe Dante, and he wanted to _be_ with him too, but _what about Lady_? Did we just _forget_ about Lady? She was his friend too, and he didn't want to hurt her after she opened up to him like she did last night.

"There's no way you actually care when Lady is about to leave, and all you can think about is this. Does she suddenly _not matter_ because you overheard some shit last night that you would've been better off not hearing?" He was sassy too. "And maybe you weren't listening, or you only heard what you wanted to hear, but Lady fucking likes you too! Are you really trying to tell me you care when you're about to disregard her like that?"

Fuck this, he brought his right hand to Dante's eye and walked out when he fell back onto his ass. He was just going to blow off some steam on some demons, if he could find them. It was hot outside. Just looking for the damned things was going to help him, he knew it. He just had to get away before he got into deeper shit with Dante. He saw Lady and Trish coming back down the street and saw that they had food.

He'd be a big liar if he tried to say he wasn't hungry, but he wasn't in the mood for it. So he walked down the street, and ghosted them when they tried to greet him with a taunt, and he didn't look back at them when their eyes followed him down the street.

* * *

**So, while reading this over, I noticed all the head cannon stuff I added in. I was wondering if anybody agrees with me on some of the points I was making.**

**And also, does anyone think my writing style is bland? I hope you liked this chapter :) **

**Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry.**

**Author's note: I wanted to thank everybody who reviewed my last chapter! I was really motivated to get this one done, though I fear it may be a little boring this time around. I was going to do each chapter based off of a song, but I really can't bring myself to do it like that, so from now on, some chapter will be based on a song and other's aren't.**

**P.S. This chapter is really short!  
**

**Please read and review :)**

* * *

**The Lamest Hero 64**

**Chapter 2 Part 2**

**The Shitty Weekend Debacle**

He spent the biggest part of his day looking for demons. It led him to an empty field a few miles away from the city; Nero was walking on a dirt path to who knows where. It was grassy. And he was right about it helping him. He'd cooled off considerably.

Then the _second biggest_ part of his day was chasing off Dante _and _looking for demons. That, of course, removed _some_ of the cooling effect from "demon hunting time", but you could say it'd been fun jumping across rooftops and watching the old man spin around frantically. The only point at which it stopped being fun was when he called his name. Fortunately, that only happened _every five seconds_.

At least he had gotten something to eat, but that was how he got spotted in the first place. He happened to be in a crowded part of town, and he was just waiting in a stand for his food when Dante came sprinting at him from a distance. He was impossible to miss with all the red he had on, and it was almost like the ground was shaking with how badly he wanted to see Nero. When Dante got close enough he yelled for Nero and all the kid did was grab his food and run away. Somehow it led to roof hopping and skipping town.

If you were standing in that crowd of people, and you saw Nero simultaneously stuffing food in his mouth and running from Dante, would you have laughed at him? I know I would.

Now he was in the middle of nowhere on a dirt road. He wished he could've changed out of his stage clothes from the day before. They smelled like that bar they performed in. _Beer and slut_, all mixed together.

It was a simple outfit, nothing flashy. Nothing like Dante. Just a jean jacket with the sleeves rolled up, a black beater, a choker, ripped jeans, leather boots. He was strapped up with holsters for Red Queen, Blue Rose, and The Starry Assault, too. _Nothing flashy _indeed_._

It wasn't as if Nero was lost. He was a great navigator. He had to be, considering his profession, which often involved travel. He learned to navigate with hard practice after his time in the lost woods. That was the worst.

Soon enough, he came across two big rocks on either sides of the dirt road. He decided to sit down and play some music. But what to play? _What to play?_

Nero had the Starry assault in his lap, now it was up to him to just get some notes out. He liked to refer to this state of not knowing what to play as "musical constipation."

_Nasty._

Until he could come up with something he just free styled. His notes were hard and _fast_. Like he was playing a solo for some song nobody had ever heard but him, and he was playing it better than he had ever played it. What a lame simile.

Who could ever be unhappy when you're thinking about music? He thought about playing "Devils Never Cry," and he thought about playing the companion piece he had written for it, "Shall Never Surrender."

He thought about breaking off his never ending solo into a soft power ballad, or a gentle serenade.

But a serenade for who? Dante, Lady, Trish, Kyrie? Who did he care to serenade?

Why would he waste time with a serenade when nobody was around to hear it? Maybe he'd play a nocturne, or maybe he'd cover a song he'd heard from one of his classic games, or maybe-

Or maybe he was still being followed. Old man Dante came down the dirt path with grass in his hair. I guess when the old man needs something he never gives up on getting it.

He stood up and pulled blue rose from the holster with the Starry Assault in his right hand, and pointed his gun right between Dante's eyes. From what Nero had heard and seen, Lady liked to do this too. Quite often actually. She was the cause for about maybe… 20 or 30 of the holes in the DMC building.

"I was beginning to wonder if you were really out here, kid. Good thing you started to mess around with the Assault, or I'd have never found you." His tone was light. Once again, all Nero could think to do was to get defensive. How could he be so stupid, leaving tracks for Dante to follow like that? "What are you doing in a place like this?"

"You know why I'm out here already, so why don't you tell me why you keep following me."

"You know, it's not like you to run away," he said carefully, as if he didn't want Nero to pull the trigger. Not like he'd be hurt, just in pain. There was a difference. "Come back to Devil May Cry with me."

Nero lowered his gun and turned away from Dante, who had backed off to take a seat on the boulder across from him heavily. Seems like he was ready for one of his naps again.

After a while, Nero said, "Did you mean what you said?" Nero was referring to what Dante said about wanting to be in a relationship with him, of course.

"Yeah, I did."

"Well, regardless. I'm not going to let Lady get hurt over this."

"I get it, kid. I get it. I don't want to hurt Lady either. Blame the morning wood for what happened." He tried to keep things light with a laugh, but anybody who knew Dante knew it wasn't real. His face was dejected behind that pretty smile for the cameras. Well, maybe dejected wasn't quite the word for it. It was dejection with some heartache. Maybe. Nero was always shitty with these kinds of things. "The thing's got a mind of its own!"

Nero silently begged Dante to stop talking about his dick like that.

And if Dante was going to hide his feelings so terribly then why wouldn't he just wear them out in the open? Well, not everybody could be Vergil, not that Nero could make the comparison himself. Nobody talks about Vergil because he's sort of taboo. Dante's not as sensitive about it as he used to be but it was better not to talk about things like that anyways.

So Nero sat back down with a swish of fabric and a heavy sigh.

"Besides, things are just fine the way they are!" Dante doesn't usually have to do this, and because of this Nero had only seen him do it a few times, but it seemed like the old man was getting himself excited so it'd be easier to hide his feelings. Nero assumed it made him feel better to get excited too, because excitement is one of the perks of being a demon hunter, and Dante loved his job more than he loved pizza.

The older slayer was standing up now, making his way to Nero. Probably to pull him up and start the trek back to the DMC building.

"Do you really believe that, old man?" He said taking his offered hand and standing again.

Now with a more genuine laugh, he says, "Don't be so melodramatic. I know it's your thing, but we should head back." Seems like teasing was a more efficient way to avoid something. Anybody who's ever been bullied knows this already though. Not that Nero considered Dante's form of humor to be _bullying_. Nero let his avoidance slide for now, because he didn't really want to talk about it himself.

Whatever. They start back down the dirt path, and at the pace they were going it was going to take them maybe an hour and a half or so to get back. It was something like 6:45, and Nero was ready to get out of that field _and out of this shitty mood_.

So he set up a challenge, "Wanna race?"

"You already know the answer to that one, kid!" He had that smirk on his face. Nero was starting to hate that god damn smirk. It either meant something great or something bad, and you could never tell which it was, but it always looked good. _Too good_.

He bent to the ground and set his foot back so he could brace his hands to the dirt, and Dante did the same.

Nero started the countdown. "Three…"

Dante continued it. "Two…"

Then they both finished it. "One!"

The old man was just in front of the kid, but there was nothing to do so far on this long stretch of dirt road. No ways of getting ahead. Nero was thankful when he could see the edge of the city. It you could see this from a bird's eye view it'd look like a mini stampede. The amount of dirt flowing behind their heels was impressive.

When they get into the city there are a lot of people to dodge. He had to either move _them_ away from _him,_ or move _himself_ away from _them_. By this point Dante and Nero are neck and neck.

Nero used his devil bringer to pull himself up onto the roofs of the town's shops and houses, and he was actually getting pretty far ahead of Dante. "_Taunt him_," his mind cried!

"What's the matter, old man? Can't keep up? Somebody better go grab your walker for you!" Ooh, that was pretty lame. It was good enough considering the situation, but Nero felt like he could've come up with something better.

A hearty laugh from Dante came to ears, but it almost got blown away in the wind. "If I need a walker it's only because I want to smack you with it!"

Okay the buildings were shorting out, but so were the people. It was better to stay on the ground for now. They were getting to the asphalt streets now. A bridge. Cars, cars, cars. Didn't these people know better than to drive when two half-breed demons were having a foot race? Shame on their parents for not teaching a life lesson such as that.

So Nero is using lamp posts and the tops of cars and their hoods to keep ahead while Dante stays on the ground. He only jumps occasionally when it is necessary. But it was making him take too many turns, and thus, causing Nero to keep first place.

"Hey, old timer! I would've expected you to be better than this! What's keeping you back?" More taunting from Nero elicits another chuckle from Dante.

He replies, "Don't be so sure of yourself! The race isn't over _yet_!"

"I've got no reason to worry about losing to you when you're a mile back, Dante!"

Finally, after maybe 10 minutes or so, Nero gets into more familiar parts of the city. They were 2 and a half blocks away from the DMC building and Dante is still behind. But then suddenly, he cuts into a random alley.

This bastard was taking a shortcut! Nero can't turn to follow him; he'd lose too much momentum that way. His uses his devil bringer to pull himself over a lamp post, does a flip for fun, and lands on a building to make _his own_ shortcut. He's running faster than he has the whole race, when finally he can see the DMC building.

Sprint! Sprint! Sprint! He's there! He's at the door! Nero had on a huge victory smirk on his face because there was no way Dante could've caught up to him if he was roof hopping right?

When he opened the door there were many things that he expected to see but didn't. And his smirk falling down would've been added to the list if he could've seen it.

He expected Lady and Trish to be there, but they weren't. He expected to see Dante behind him, rather than in front of him. No, he was greeted with that ridiculous two-fingered salute Dante always used. He was out of breath, and so was Nero, but he could tell from the way he was breathing that he had only _just_ got there. He was sitting on his desk with a half-eaten box of old pizza on his lap.

And it was still messy from the night before. Dante didn't start following him until an hour after he left. What the fuck was he doing for an hour? Surely it didn't take that long to handle his wood… could it? He would just have to ask if he really wanted answers.

But first things first. "How the _fuck_ did you get here before me?"

There's that god damn chuckle again. Nero wished he would stop fucking around and answer him. "I started to sprint before you. And you slowed down for a second when you saw me run into the cut." _Chuckle._ "Cocky little Nero, gets ahead of himself and falls behind. Where was your head, kid?" More chuckles. He actually takes a bite of his pizza before he finishes laughing. He's acting like he's starving. Did Dante even eat before he left to chase Nero?

"Ah shut up, old man. What happened after I left?"

Well at least he stopped laughing, but the air becomes the slightest bit tense. Nero finally closed the door and sat on the couch. He mentally swore that he wouldn't get too emotional like he had this morning.

"Well, Trish and Lady came back in with food, but I was denied access because I had to explain why you were in a bad mood. But that forced me to admitting that I had overheard you and Lady talking last night…"

_**Earlier in the day…**_

"_So you heard what I said…" Oh no. Lady, please don't speak so softly, it's not like you. Please don't get hurt._

_He nodded._

_Trish sets the food in the fridge and casually makes her way to the great wall of devil arms while this conversation goes down. _

_The best way to handle this was to be as sensitive as possible. Lady, not matter how steely she could be, was still a lady._

"_Look, Lady. I'm sorry-"_

"_I'm not upset over it."_

_Really? He'd love to believe that __**shit**__, but who knows. You can __**never know**__ with Lady. Sometimes she was his friend, sometimes she wasn't. Sometimes she had a crush on him and sometimes she didn't._

_Whatever. She was being cold and that's exactly what he would've liked to avoid._

"_I never expected anything from you, Dante, and if you want to be with Nero than go ahead and do what you want."_

_Damn Lady and that teal eye of hers. He could see she was upset through the blue-green eye. She probably was expecting something. Dante somehow doubted she would say anything like that out in the open unless she was sure he was asleep. And she would've __**known**__ if he was asleep or not, so maybe in the back of her mind she was hoping he would overhear and choose to be with her._

_That's ridiculous. And it's also just speculation. Lady wouldn't do something like that, it's not Lady like._

_Pay attention to those capital letters._

"_You know I can't do that if you're upset, Lady… I really do care about you a lot." He moved in for a hug. Wow, he was really __**not**__ thinking this morning. You can't hug somebody who has feelings you can't return with a hard on in your pants; __**life just doesn't work that way**__._

_That was the second time that day he tried to hug someone with a boner. What was wrong with him? He's been awake for like 5 or 10 minutes now, and he'd already proven he was an idiot multiple times._

_She pulled out a gun from one of her hip holsters and pointed it directly at his dick, and he responded by moving all the way across the room. Demon healing or no, Dante was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to grow his __**ding-a-ling **__back if it got shot off. Can you imagine how disappointed everyone would be if he came back from a mission one day and his dick was missing? Just completely gone? Everybody would be in tears!_

"_That's exactly why I'm leaving."_

_Wait, what? She's leaving because he cares? Didn't she say all she wanted to do was be close? Wasn't this considered closeness to her? Well, to be fair, she also said she was incompetent with her feelings. Dante had said once that he had terrible luck with women, but as it turns out, he just had terrible luck with Lady. And Nero. It could definitely just be terrible luck in general…_

_Dante didn't know why Trish decided to step in when she did, but he was grateful when she did because he was stuck. Didn't know what to do._

_She just handed Kalina Ann to Lady and strapped a few extra guns to herself before saying, "Let's go visit your contacts and see if we can find a nice big job."_

_Lady must've been grateful too because she nodded without hesitation, and then they were out the door. Dante figured it'd be best to let Trish handle Lady. Trish always knew what to say, and how to handle things like this. You could say Trish was the reason Dante knew Nero, but really it was The Order of the Sword, Lady, __**and**__ Trish's fault. He was thankful he had Trish around._

_With a big sigh of frustration and annoyance with his day, Dante made his way upstairs for a cold shower and a new change of clothes._

"Speaking of that, maybe you oughta take a shower kid. You smell like grass and beer."

"It's the smell of a man, but you wouldn't know about any of that, would you?" Nero got up from the couch and turned for his room, where he would get his "night time rags," and put away the Starry Assault.

Taunt. Chuckle. Annoyance. It was his way of life, and he was starting to think his weekend wasn't going to be so shitty. But how could that possibly be, when he was about to be left alone with the old man for who knows how long? Hopefully Lady and Trish were on a small mission and would be back any minute.

"Save me some pizza."

"But you already ate today!" Dante was like a five year old who didn't want to share his toys or something. His face was uncharacteristically pouty. Yes, it was true that sometimes Dante liked to purse his lips a bit, but that was different. He did that to flirt. His pouting was… Unorthodox. Luckily, he stopped doing that in favor a making a deal with Nero.

"Tell you what, kid. You take your shower, and when you come back we'll play for the rest of the pizza. Deal?"

Another challenge? Looks like everything was back to the way it was for now, but it'd probably be weird whenever Lady and Trish got back._ Oh well_.

"Deal."

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**I promise the next chapter will be more interesting! I really just felt like I needed to get Dante and Nero home before anything really juicy could happen. I'm sorry this chapter is boring :(**

**Anyways, does anybody have a game you think Dante would try to challenge Nero in? I've got some ideas, but I just wanted to know what you guys think. I'm thinking Guitar Hero III.**

**Please review!**


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